


texture like honey but a taste like aftershave

by wittylittleknitter



Category: X Company
Genre: Attempts at describing synesthesia, Gen, Gratuitous use of CBC Radio programming, Pre-Series, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittylittleknitter/pseuds/wittylittleknitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It takes me a whole morning to get the guts to go out for groceries."</p>
<p>"Then why did you enlist?"</p>
<p>"I want to serve."</p>
<p>Synesthesia's not easy. Vignettes of pre-series (and eventually slightly AU during-series) Alfred and his daily life.</p>
<p>(If you viewed this fic before 2/27, it's worth a revisit. I went back and edited for consistency, even though I've been jossed already.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, since synesthesia fascinates me and it's a travesty that there's no fic yet, I decided to be the first. Enjoy!

Your apartment is quiet, as you like it.

Your heartbeat echoing in your ears tastes acrid, like a neglected coffee cup that has molded over its contents.

Your room is dark, you live alone, and since you can see no reason you shouldn't, you flop back onto your bed. And then, out the window, just barely in view: a red traffic light. And all at once, any willpower you might have had to face the day is out the window.

God _damn_.

You were about to set a new record for 'earliest grocery run'. 

Your name is Alfred Graves, and at this point you might as well just take a nap.

***

When you wake up, it's no longer technically morning and the acrid taste still lines the inside of your mouth. The vehement mint of brushing your teeth is more of a sideways move than anything, and in an effort to distract yourself, you start going through your shopping list. The usual things: milk, eggs, bread, maybe some hazelnuts if you can find them—"Are hazelnuts even in season?" you mutter around your toothbrush.

And all of a sudden, your mouth is briefly filled with warm hot chocolate with peppermint, before going back to the acrid silence of before.

You knew words gave you flavors sometimes, but this is... new.

You spit out your mouthful of toothpaste, and stare down your reflection.

“Hazelnut.” you say, and then slower. “Haaazelnut.”

Same reaction: mint hot chocolate and a pleasant cool afterfeeling.

You rinse out your mouth, and smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Library, and more tastes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cohesivity last chapter, it's been fixed.
> 
> I have a feeling that for the time being these are going to be very short. I'm having a hard time getting into the right mindset.

You're in the library, days or weeks later, a few hours before you're due at the vaudeville. Having stumbled across a word earlier today (acatalepsy) that was like a bite of cold boiled potato on your tongue, you had had a sudden desire to know the definition. (Incomprehenisibility, by the way.)

“Hazelnut,” you murmur to yourself, and smile.

A rather pretty girl walks by, but you don't notice because what really draws your attention is the bright red-and-yellow print of her dress.

Great. Just what you needed.

You lower your head and try to breathe slowly around the sensations and sights that you know aren't real, but might as well be for how they're affecting you.

You have no idea how long you stay like that, except for that it finishes with soft blue classical music flowing out of a nearby radio. 

“And that was the first movement of Beethoven's fourth piano sonata, ladies and gents. In recent news, there is a bill going to City Council today debating whether the way we illuminate streets at night is practical and/or longstanding...” said the radio.

“Oh.” said Alfred, around what felt like the last sip of the perfect cup of tea. You close and replace the dictionary on the shelf, mumbling “Hazelnut” and “Illuminate” all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:   
> The definition of acatalepsy is actually incomprehensibility.  
> I spent a half hour finding the right piece of music in Eb major for this.  
> I have no idea if CBC Radio's ever actually played Beethoven's fourth piano sonata on air.  
> This: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Beethoven_Piano_Sonata_No_4_op_7_-_I_-_Allegro_molto_e_con_brio.ogg) is the exact piece of the sonata I was using to work off of.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts:  
> Hazelnut season is midsummer in California, and late summer in most other places.  
> I'm actually doing taste and sensation tests for the words.  
> The reds thing is all guesswork and likely to be jossed, as this entire fic will eventually be.


End file.
